


Watershed

by Quiet_crash



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Choi Junhong | Zelo-centric, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 15:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15099995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiet_crash/pseuds/Quiet_crash
Summary: Junhong shakes his head to clear it and finally looks at the man.He's handsome. He's got a pair of really plush lips. They're the first thing Junhong notices about him. They're slightly open. His eyes are dark and wide, dyed-brown bangs falling into them. And then the man speaks,“Is this your place? Because I broke in to rob you, but shit, man, you literally don't have anything. Wait here, I'll be right back.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was almost named You Don't Steal a Bitter Eggplant. I'm so tired. Also considering adding another chapter but we'll see, maybe when I'm not SO DAMN TIRED. Unfortunately my entire two months of vacation are looking busy. I just want to sleep please. Also let me know if I need to add tags?
> 
> Anyways, this is actually inspired! By a tumblr post I'm copying for you because I couldn't find a good link:
> 
> "So I heard this story second-hand, many years ago, but the gist was that a friend of a friend lived in what was generally considered a bad neighborhood, because he was a super poor college student and it was what he could afford. He didn’t have any furniture, he just slept on a blanket on the floor and had a milk crate for a chair and like an old wire spool as a table. No TV, nothing in the fridge, no microwave, basically just bare walls and a roof to keep the weather off. So one day he comes home, and there’s a man in his apartment, just standing there, with this look of utter amazement and horror on his face, and he turns to the guy who’s just entered and says, “This your place? ‘cause I broke in to rob you, but shit, man, you ain’t got nothin’. Wait here, I’m’a be right back.” And the burglar left, leaving a puzzled college student alone in his empty apartment. But sure enough, the burglar came back a while later, and brought some friends, and they delivered a table, a couple of chairs, and a small TV. “I think I got you a bed, too, but that might take a couple days.”  
> So, the poor college student made some friends. And he didn’t ask where they got the stuff." (source: thestirge.tumblr.com)

_Watershed:_

_1:a crucial dividing point, line, or factor **:** turning point_

* * *

 

Junhong rubs his eyes tiredly, staring at himself in the mirror. He looks as bad as he feels. He hasn't eaten all day, he hasn't slept well in months and the can only thank the gods that it's not winter. He barely makes enough to keep himself alive as it is, adding a new coat and boots to his expenses might just make him starve to death.

 

It's not like it would take much at this point. Even his teachers have begun to notice. He used to be attentive and eager in class. Now it's a miracle if he doesn't doze off in the plush chair of the lecture hall or at the library.

 

They approached him with their concerns but it's not like he could tell them that his parents kicked him out for pursuing his dream of a dancing career and he's not really dealing well. So he just said something about going through a rough time at home and ran away.

 

He doesn't know how long he can keep this up though. At the beginning of the year he promised himself to make it no matter what but now, one semester in, he knows it's going to be harder than he ever imagined. He's nearing his breaking point. Soon something will have to give and he just hopes it won't be his body giving up on him.

 

For now, he has a shift to work through and he can only pray his customers won’t be mean tonight. He splashes his face with cold water to to wake his blood into circulating faster and walks out of the bathroom.

 

“You’re on the register today, kid,” his boss says. Junhong plasters a smile on his face and hopes it stays there for the duration of his shift.

 

–

 

He trudges home essentially on auto-pilot. He managed to eat a sandwich on his break so he isn't that hungry anymore (who is he kidding he's so hungry but there's nothing to eat at home; the fridge doesn't really work anyway) but there's still homework to be done before he can wrap himself in his single blanket and pretend he's comfortable so his body can rest.

 

He's not looking forward to it but he's come this far, there's no way he's going to let all his sacrifices go to waste by failing. Besides, he genuinely wants to learn. It's just, he'd be much more happy to do it if he was able to focus on his assignments.

 

He feels himself come to a stop so he blinks back to reality and realizes he's standing in front of his door. He tugs his backpack off his shoulder and clumsily rummages around in search of his keys. It isn't until he manages to find them and insert the right one into the keyhole that he realizes his door is already open.

 

He blinks, surprised, staring at it blankly for a few seconds before shrugging and pushing it open. He must have left it open by mistake when he'd gone to class in the morning.

 

He comes inside almost falling on his face when he leans down to take his shoes off and then plods towards his milk crate chair to spread his homework on the old wire spool he uses for a table.

 

That's when he bumps into someone.

 

Junhong almost falls over again, not expecting anything, much less any _one_ , to be standing in the middle of his one room apartment. A strong hand wrapped around his biceps prevents him from getting carpet burn off his ugly, dirty fitted carpet.

 

“Whoa there,” a pleasant male voice exclaims. Junhong feels his backpack being taken from him, follows it with his eyes to see it placed on the floor next to the wire spool table. The unknown man guides Junhong himself to the crate and sits him down.

 

Junhong shakes his head to clear it and finally looks at the man.

 

He's handsome. He's got a pair of really plush lips. They're the first thing Junhong notices about him. They're slightly open. His eyes are dark and wide, dyed-brown bangs falling into them.

 

He looks shell-shocked.

 

Junhong can relate. Or, he could, he's just so tired the best he can muster is mild surprise.

 

“Uh,” he hears himself speak, “who are you?”

 

The guy – not that much older than Junhong himself, from the looks of it – shakes his head at the question. Instead of answering, he says “Is this your place? Because I broke in to rob you, but shit, man, you literally don't have _anything_. Wait here, I'll be right back.”

 

And then the guy goes right out the door. Junhong sits there, stupefied, for a good ten minutes. What the actual hell? Did he just get almost robbed? Is it a thing that happens? He supposes in his kind of neighbourhood it could. There's a reason he can afford this apartment in the first place.

 

The longer he thinks about it though, the more it seems like a dream. Yeah, it must have been a dream. He's heard about how severe lack of sleep can cause hallucinations. Had to be one of those. First of all Junhong refuses to believe a burglar would be this pretty. Second of all, it's been a while. He can totally see his overtired brain conjuring up a nice, pretty guy helping him up from where he tripped over his own feet.

 

This doesn't bode well for his dancing. But that's a bridge he'll figure out how to cross when he gets to dance practice tomorrow.

 

He won't lie, he's slightly bummed when the realization sinks that this was all a figment of his imagination. The guy's hand was _warm_ , his grip secure. Reassuring. For a moment there he managed to feel like someone actually cared about whether or not he was going to fall. Figures he had to dream it.

 

Junhong sighs and flattens himself on the table, one arm reaching for the strap of his backpack to drag it closer. Hallucinations or not he has that homework to finish still.

 

He's neck deep in it, mind in that comfortable trance brought on by extreme focus, when the front door is shoved open again.

 

Junhong about jumps out of his skin, heart racing. He stands, turning to the door, and immediately has to sit back down when his head starts spinning.

 

“Whoa, careful there! I told you I'd come back, chill,” a familiar voice calls out.

 

Holy shit. “Holy shit,” Junhong mumbles, mouth slack with shock, staring at the hallucination from before. Except he's totally not a hallucination, Junhong is forced to believe, when he drops a bag on the table and it makes a thud loud enough for someone to thump on the wall in complaint.

 

And neither are the three other guys Pillow Lips apparently brought. Junhong almost has a heart attack when one of them puts a stack of chairs on the floor and whistles. “Man, you weren't kidding.”

 

“ 'Course I wasn't!” Pillow Lips says indignantly.

 

“And you weren't kidding about the owner, either,” another one butts in, eyes trained on Junhong. “Kid looks like he hasn't eaten in a month.”

 

“ _I know right?_ ”

 

“Four, actually,” Junhong confesses as if compelled under the penetrating gaze he's being pinned by. “The last of my savings ran out four months ago.”

 

“Jesus, fuck,” the man mutters. “Well, what's your name, kid?”

 

“Junhong,” says Junhong hesitantly so it sounds more like a question than a proper answer.

 

“Then, Junhong, sit tight. I'm taking over your kitchen. Daehyun, step away from the groceries and help Youngjae with the table.”

 

Pillow Lips guy's name is Daehyun. It's a nice name, Junhong thinks.

 

“I wasn't gonna eat anything, promise!” Daehyun says. Three seconds pass before Junhong realizes it's to him. He manages to stammer “Um, s-sure?” in response.

 

“No, serious,” Daehyun continues, taking one chair from the stack and putting it next to Junhong. Then he falls into it with a tired sigh. “It's all for you, you _really_ need it. Also, we got you a table, and some chairs. Jongup's bringing the TV up, though it'll have to stand on the floor for a while before you can get a stand,” he trails off for a moment but then resumes talking. “And we got you a bed! This one might take a while to get here but don't worry, Yonggukie-hyung is on it.”

 

“Shut the fuck up and come help, Daehyun!” the guy who's fussing with the table yells finally. Junhong is startled but Daehyun only scoffs.

 

“Fuck off, Youngjae. Can't you see I'm talking to my buddy Junhong here?”

 

“Um,” Junhong says cutting in before his neighbours start complaining about the noises, “excuse me but, who are you?”

 

“Well this is awkward,” Daehyun laugh. “Sorry, let me introduce myself. My name's Daehyun, I'm 23. The guy who's gonna feed you is Himchan-hyung. Youngjae is the asshole who's failing to assemble your table and Jongup just brought your TV in.”

 

Jongup wipes his hands on his jeans and offers Junhong a wave. Then he takes another two chairs, stands then around where the finished table will be and squats down to help Youngjae assemble it.

 

“Nice to meet you, I guess?” Junhong says weakly. This still doesn't really answer his question though. “But… weren't you trying to, um, to rob me? Or something?”

 

He's too tired to process everything that's happening right now, his brain is stuck on mind-numbing surprise.

 

Daehyun laughs sheepishly. “Yeah, actually. Funny how that turned out, eh?”

 

Junhong nods dumbly.

 

“First time in my life,” Daehyun continues to chatter. “Man, I didn't even know people could live like this! But then, looking at you, I guess they actually can't. So I was totally, you know, shocked and in a bad way because no offence but you don't look too good. And I couldn't just leave you like this! I might be a burglar but I have a heart!”

 

“Are… are you all-?”Junhong asks, quietly, slightly scared. Youngjae is scowling at the table, Jongup's expression hasn't changed once in this whole time and the last one, the only one Daehyung referred to as a hyung, is behind his back so Junhong can't see his face but his voice was deep and raspy, kinda of nasal. And sharp as he barked a commend at Daehyun.

 

What of they're in some gang? What if they want Junhong to join in exchange for their help? He can't join a gang, he's too young to die!

 

“Kind of!” Daehyun explains, unbothered. “I'm good at sneaking so I do the 'home visits'. Youngjae is a tech wizard, he sometimes helps when there's a camera or an alarm to disable. Jonguppie is the muscle. He's a shorty but he can bench press me, his arms are no joke.”

 

Junhong sneaks a peek at the muscles. They are indeed impressive. He almost had arms like Jongup's, back in highschool when he still lived at home.

 

When life was still easy and comfortable and he had his parents to depend on.

 

He must have been staring for a while, lost in thought, because Jongup's quiet voice brings him back to reality. “Hey, you okay?” he asks.

 

Junhong shrugs, avoiding their eyes.

 

He’s not, really, is he? But it’s not something he wants to admit to himself, much less some seriously weird strangers.

 

He stays quiet. But that is kind of an answer anyway, judging from the momentary silence that falls.

 

It’s Youngjae that breaks it, swatting at Jongup with a screwdriver, hissing about useless dongsaengs and why does he have to do everything himself?!

 

Jongup turns back to the table, not bothering to apologize, and in ten minutes it stands, assembled. In those ten minutes Daehyun takes an interest in the books Junhong had been studying from before they came in.

 

“So you’re a student?” he asks, craning his neck to peek at the texts. “What’s your major?”

 

“Dance,” Junhong said quietly, eyes trained on the books but unseeing. Yeah, he thought, I major in dance. Those were the words he used to dream of saying. The words that, at the beginning of the year filled him with fire, with drive and determination and pride. I’m a dancer, he used to think. I’m fulfilling my dreams and nothing can stop me. Mom, dad, I’ll show you.

 

But days passed and it turned out that following his dreams was harder than he ever imagined. He didn’t give up, no, he would never give up. But the everyday struggle of surviving on his own robbed him of any and all fire and exhaustion drained enjoyment from his passion.

 

“I major in dance” used to fill him with pride and joy. Now, he just feels tired.

 

“Oh man, that’s so cool!” Daehyun exclaims. Junhong blinks once, sure he misheard. “Dance is awesome! I like to sing, myself, but I never managed to get any proper education. Lucky you!”

 

Junhong’s breath hitches. Daehyun is looking at him, a smile stretching his plushy lips, eyes wide open and sparkling with earnest enthusiasm.

 

“Your family must be so proud of you! But why don’t you ask them for help? There’s no shame in that, you know,” the man continues, and that’s when Junhong breaks.

 

–

 

Himchan is seething. It's been a while since he's last seen a child in such a bad situation, and he's seen a lot.

 

He hadn't believed Daehyun when he'd ran into the house yelling about empty milk crates and threadbare blankets and tall teenagers falling unconscious on their feet.

 

He wasn't going to get involved, initially, but curiosity got the better of him when Daehyun managed to wrangle both Youngjae and Jongup into helping him haul furniture, of all things, into some shady part of their generally shady neighbourhood.

 

And even then he was going to just be the getaway driver, like he always was for their bigger jobs. But Daehyun asked to stop at a grocery store and came out with bags of food and didn't touch any of the contents.

 

That got Himchan's attention. Daehyun _not_ snacking on food that was literally sitting in his lap? Unusual to say the least.

 

So he left the car parked on the street and walked up to the apartment behind his dongsaengs. He wasn't prepared for what he found there in the least.

 

The room was completely bare. A single naked bulb shed dim yellow light on the equally naked, dirty grey walls devoid of any pictures. No drapes on the window. A kitchenette that was made up of one counter, a small old fridge and a gas stove. A pillow and a blanket in the corner of the room where a bed would stand.

 

And in the middle of it all, a wire spool on which several books were spread, studied diligently by the thinnest, most unhealthy-looking kid he's ever laid eyes on, sitting on a milk crate with his knobbly knees almost touching his sharp chin.

 

In other words, a picture of misery.

 

He reminded Himchan of Yongguk, back when they still didn't have Daehyun, Youngjae and Jongup and it was just the two of them, huddled together on their couch, Himchan with a bottle of cheap wine and Yongguk scribbling in his sketchbook, bent over the paper protectively, the knobs of his spine showing where his shirt slipped down.

 

Youngjae whistled. “Man, you weren't kidding.”

 

“ 'Course I wasn't!” Daehyun cried.

 

“And you weren't kidding about the owner, either,” Himchan couldn't tear his eyes away from the boy. He looked so thin. He looked so tired, despite the shock. “Kid looks like he hasn't eaten in a month.”

 

“Four, actually,” the boy corrected him as if unwittingly, big eyes not quite glazed over as he returned Himchan’s stare. “The last of my savings ran out four months ago.”

 

“Jesus, fuck,” Himchan muttered disbelievingly. This child was starving for four months and nobody helped? It was plain as day that he needed help, needed it desperately and immediately. This is why Himchan fucking hated people. “Well, what's your name, kid?”

 

“Junhong,” came the timid answer.

 

“Then, Junhong, sit tight. I'm taking over your kitchen.” Himchan announced. “Daehyun, step away from the groceries and help Youngjae with the table.”

 

If nobody else would do it then he would, Himchan decided. Because he was not going to just stand by and watch a boy slowly die.

 

Soon, Daehyun's incessant chatter and the sounds of cooking filled the small space. Youngjae was being surprisingly silent, muttering expletives under his breath at the troublesome table until Jongup finally joined him in assembling the thing.

 

The stove was shit, Himchan was not surprised to find out. Whatever though, he made do, he's cooked in worse conditions. Meanwhile, Youngjae and Jongup finished with the table, tugged it into place in the middle of the room and neatly arranged six chairs around it, taking their places. Daehyun dragged Junhong into a chair too.

 

Himchan tuned them out trying to not burn the food. He is finally finishing when a sob catches his attention. He tunes back in quickly.

 

“They kicked you out because you want to be a dancer?” Youngjae is saying, eyes narrowed, lips pursed in a scowl.

 

“Y-yeah,” Junhong manages to stutter through his tears. He tries to wipe them, his face taking on a red tint, and the others pretend to not see it. “My brother tried to help me but he couldn't do much and I've just been trying to work and study but nobody wants to hire me because I have no experience and look too young and the- the first semester wasn't so bad but now I just-”

 

It’s no use. Junhong hides his face in his hands and cries. Daehyun's hand finds its way on his back and rubs calming circles into the broad shoulders. Himchan finishes plating the food and puts the dishes in front of the crying boy with a thud that startles him out of his misery.

 

He forces chopsticks into the boy's slack, wet hand and guides it to the food. “Eat, kid,” he says. “You'll feel better.”

 

Fresh tears fill the boy's eyes but he nods and starts shovelling food into his mouth. Youngjae periodically fills his glass with more orange juice.

 

Himchan has one more question. “How old are you, kid?”

 

“Nineteen,” Junhong answers between bites.

 

That settles it.

 

“Give me your phone,” Himchan orders. Junhong pauses in his eating, hints of unease appearing in his expressive eyes. “I'm not going to _do_ anything, calm down, kid. I'm going to give you my number. That's it.”

 

Soon he has the beat up phone in his hands. He programs his number in, casts a glance around the table and adds the others' numbers as well seeing their nods. “Call any one of us if you need anything,” he said.

 

Junhong takes the phone back when it’s offered, stares at it for a moment, then at Himchan. Then Daehyun. And then he sniffs. “Why are you doing this?”

 

Momentarily they are all silent.

 

“Why are you- you tried to rob me? And then you came back and gave me a table? And food?” the boy's voice breaks on the last word and it tuggs on Himchan's heartstrings like fingers on a harp. “And said to call you when- my mom said to not call unless I change my major,” Junhong confesses wetly.

 

“I couldn't just leave you like that!” Daehyun cries out. “You looked like you were about to keel over and die!”

 

“But why?!”

 

“Because we know how it is,” Jongup says in his quiet, soothing voice. “We've been there, or somewhere in the vicinity.”

 

“Look,” Youngjae added, “just because most people are unfeeling bastards doesn't mean we have to be as well. In fact if there's one thing Yongguk hyung and Himchan hyung have taught us it's to try and _not_ be like everyone else.”

 

Junhong, hearing Himchan's name, turns his big, shining eyes on him expectantly. Himchan stands, digs into the grocery bag and pulls out a box of tissues, handing one to the emotional boy.

 

“You can't save everyone,” he says slowly. “And it's no use trying. But when you stumble upon someone that needs help and you know you can give it to them, you have to be a special kind of fucker to not do it.

 

“You need help, kid. Everyone does, sometimes. There's no shame in that. Shameful is the way everyone turns a blind eye on it because you don't want to fit into their easy, neat little world, despite how hard-working and driven you are. Not everyone would have the courage to put themselves through college without any support whatsoever, at nineteen no less. That's admirable,” Himchan says gently, knowing that with every word he is reaching deep inside the kid and touching upon the most tender of his wounds.

 

It shows in the way tears just won’t stop pouring from his eyes. Daehyun, Youngjae and Jongup stand silently, gather the trash and move out. Himchan throws the car keys to Youngjae, who grins triumphantly and sprints to the car, Daehyun running after him and loudly complaining no one ever lets him drive. Jongup follows, rolling his eyes.

 

Himchan remains seated next to the bawling boy, offering tissues and reassurance as needed. He isn’t surprised that the tears only peter out when Junhong falls asleep. Himchan drags him – with much less trouble than he should have, considering the boy's height – to the “bed”. He makes sure the kid is as comfortable as possible before he lets himself out of the apartment.

 

He has a lot of time to think on his way home. His thoughts only serve to make him angry.

 

Yongguk is waiting for him when he gets home. He takes one look at Himchan's face and wordlessly offers him a beer.

 

“The kids filled me in. The bed is going to be here tomorrow,” Yongguk says when there are only dregs left of the bitter drink at the bottom of their bottles.

 

“Good,” Himchan sighs tiredly. “Come with me, when it gets here. You really need to see it.”

 

–

 

Junhong is utterly taken with Yongguk. About as much as Yongguk is with Junhong. Yongguk handles it much better than back when Daehyun had first started to follow him with sparkling eyes. That is, he doesn’t hide out pretending to be working on his designs. Instead, he allows the kid closer and patiently answers his questions about tattooing.

 

Himchan doesn't bother to hide his grin. He and Yongguk often talk, just between the two of them, how “the kids” are growing up a lot but the truth is they've all changed. And, he thinks, definitely for the better.

 

Currently, he and Jongup are getting Junhong's new bed together. The kid had wanted to help them, awkward with two strange benefactors of his continuing to do stuff for him without any kind of payment but Himchan hauled him and Yongguk into chairs at the table and told them to get to know each other.

 

Yongguk rolled his eyes at Himchan's pushy ways but complied and soon enough his soothing voice and art had Junhong totally at ease.

 

Himchan is pleased to note that he already looks a little better. Not a lot but at least the delirious look in his eyes has cleared and he walks without a stagger. Now he can hear Junhong's voice raising in pitch with his excitement over Yongguk's own tattoos, sprawling in elegant swirls all over his chest and arms.

 

The kid is animated and enthusiastic and it’s a much better look on him than anxiety and grief. Now he only needs some meat on his bones and to get rid of the bags under his eyes and Himchan will be able to sleep at night.

 

He knows it’s entirely ridiculous, to care for this unknown boy so much after less than 24 hours of being acquainted but Himchan is a sucker for neglectful parents and pride. Junhong is too proud of himself to bow down to his parents’ wishes even if it costs him his health. Himchan can appreciate that. After all, hadn’t he and Yongguk done the same? Forge their own path through blood, sweat and tears? But he and Yongguk had had each other and Junhong is alone.

 

Jongup’s sudden movement next to him breaks Himchan out of his pensiveness.

 

“Dance?” Jongup says eagerly, eyes bright.

 

“Yeah, I major in dance,” Junhong reminds shyly. Without a word, Jongup abandons the bed assembling and moves to join the other two. Himchan scowls, to which Yongguk grins his gummy grin – the carefree, happy grin that makes him look ten years younger and used to be impossible to coax out – and switches places with Jongup, letting the boys talk about their passion.

 

The bed is assembled to the sounds of the boys’ feet thudding on the floor as they dance to tinny music coming from their phones, and the neighbour’s angry knocking on the wall. Soon after, Daehyun and Youngjae come bustling in amid shouts and squabbles, with bags of takeaway food.

 

The more people are present the quieter and shier Junhong becomes, Himchan notes. But he still smiles at the banter and shovels food into his mouth like only a starving young adult can.

 

A few times they catch him staring at the bed before someone jars him out of the trance.

 

“Do you think it’s stolen, or what?” Daehyun says finally. “I mean, I see where that’s a reasonable assumption but we thought a bed’s a little too personal, y’know?”

 

“I wasn’t gonna ask,” Junhong’s cheeks colour slightly. “I don’t-” he hesitates for a moment but finishes with more confidence, “I don’t care where it came from.”

 

“Really?” Youngjae blurts, surprised.

 

Junhong shakes his head. “It came from you. And, I mean, you did try to rob me. But in the end you’ve done more for me than anyone else since my parents k-kicked me out.” His voice wavers at the mention of his parents but he ploughs on. “And I, I don’t know how I’m going to pay you back for this but I just, I’m really thankful.”

 

“You’re welcome, kid,” Daehyun cheers. Himchan catches Yongguk’s eye across the table and sees his own soft smile mirrored on his friend’s face.

 

“Don’t worry about paying us back,” Yongguk says gently.

 

Junhong draws himself up. “I can’t _yet_ ,” he says, “but one day I will! I can never thank you enough. Today was the first time in weeks that I got through the whole dance workshop without a dizzy spell. I could actually focus in class! Although,” the boy’s nose wrinkles in an adorable expression of disgust, “some of it was very boring.”

 

Himchan chortles, helplessly endeared.

 

–

 

“So um,” Junhong says one time as he and Jongup pant for breath on his bed. The older boy offered to help him practice a choreography for one of his classes.

 

Jongup turns to him, to show he’s listening.

 

“Are you guys, like, a gang?” Junhong articulates his question. It’s been eating at him practically since day one but only now, after weeks of what he can only call _friendship_ , has he managed to gather the courage to ask it.

 

Jongup snorts with a grin. “Not a gang.” He stretches until his bones pop and settles back on the bed comfortably before he elaborates. “We’re not living off crime. Yongguk hyung has his tattoo parlour and it’s all legit. Himchan hyung manages it with him. The rest of us help out in there.”

 

“Oh, I see,” Junhong says, eyes still boring into Jongup’s. He’s practically bursting with curiosity. Despite having become friends he doesn’t actually know much about the others. Not like they know him and his entire sob story. He still doesn’t quite know how to ask.

 

Fortunately Jongup is perceptive and easy-going. His grin widens until he starts snickering at the face Junhong’s making; even more so when the younger boy pouts.

 

“I spend most of my time helping at the parlour and dancing. Himchan hyung appreciates the assistance.” After a brief moment he adds, “My mother’s boyfriend wasn’t exactly a nice guy. One time I wandered into the parlour with a shiner and they offered to let me stay there all day if I helped. I guess I just never left.”

 

 _We’ve all been there_ , Jongup had said. Junhong wouldn’t exactly call their situations similar but the bare bones are the same: betrayed by the people who were supposed to protect and love them no matter what.

 

“Of course, I help Daehyun hyung sometimes. We all do, though he’s the one who came up with it. It’s kind of a Robin Hood thing, except he steals from assholes and keeps the loot for us. We all thought he was exaggerating with the Robin Hood comparison but he did help you,” Jongup mused.

 

Junhong casts an eye around his apartment. It’s much cosier than it used to be but it’s still a mostly empty, poor shithole. “What was he doing in here though, if he steals from the rich?” he asks.

 

Jongup blinks, considering the answer. “Must have gotten the wrong place,” he says finally. “He can be pretty scatterbrained like that, sometimes. One time he walked into a glass display window at the shops.”

 

Junhong tries to stop himself from laughing at his hyung but it’s useless. Soon, both boys are giggling into the duvet over stories of silly hyungs.

 

–

 

Youngjae seems grumpy at first. Grumpy and loud. Junhong observes him mostly in his interactions with Daehyun hyung and ninety percent of those are more or less serious squabbles. Quite honestly, this hyung intimidates him a bit.

 

Not in the same way as Yongguk hyung. Junhong is aware of himself enough to realize that what he feels around the tattoo artist is something akin to hero worship, which is a little bit embarrassing. Youngjae hyung is more like the kind of scary a firecracker is. It’s loud and explosive and can burn you if you aren’t careful enough.

 

But it’s also beautiful. Junhong realizes this when Youngjae hyung sits with him at the table and helps configure a new laptop – a present from Youngjae who claimed that not having one was just impractical in this day and age and since he already had one laying around he could give it to Junhong.

 

Junhong doesn’t mention that it’s a model he’s seen the well-dressed, affluent students take notes on in lectures at university. He can’t help but gush about how much easier it is to stay on top of course work when he doesn’t have to use the library computers in the short moments of free time between lectures.

 

“Hyung,” he says in a tone almost reverent, eyes wide as realization hits him. “I’ll be able to register for classes from home now.”

 

Youngjae pats him on the head with a self-satisfied smile and says, “Come to the shop, we have better connection in the office.”

 

–

 

Out of all the hyungs, the one that Junhong is the most scared of at first – and the longest – is Himchan. Junhong feels guilty about it because Himchan cooked for him on the very first day they met and many days since, and was so nice and let him cry.

 

But Himchan’s voice is nasal and a little raspy, he likes to throw orders around and his eyes are sharp like the smart clothes he wears – dress shirts and slacks. “Yah, Junhong-ah, what is this mess? Yah, Junhong-ah, eat properly!”

 

“I’m intimidating?” the man says, lifting one brow, hearing Junhong’s shy confession. “Good. You see, Junhong-ah, the world is all about appearances,” he explains. “When you’re dealing with people, what they notice about you first is your appearance. The nicer you look, the better they treat you. I’m sure you’ve noticed this already.”

 

Junhong thinks back on months of, lets be real, poverty, and recalls sidelong glances thrown at him by other students and even teachers, who liked to call on him during class to check if he was prepared.

 

Junhong nods.

 

“Well, I manage Yongguk’s – our – finances. How do you think the administration, or the sanitary-epidemiological inspection guys would act if it was just Yongguk in his large sweaters and ripped jeans? They would search the place from fundaments to rooftops to find a fault in it. But they see me and all they ask for is documentation to leaf through.”

 

Junhong makes an awed noise. He hadn’t realized. He never really thought of it. Himchan laughs and pats his head. These guys sure to like to pat him, Junhong thinks.

 

“We play society’s game, Junhong-ah,” he says, lips curled into a smirk that borders on being predatory – but now Junhong’s in on the joke, “but we play it on our own terms. They see my suits and hear me speak and think I’m one of them, when really all I do is blow smoke in their eyes.”

 

Next time Junhong visits the parlour, Himchan is there sporting ripped jeans of his own and his ears gleam with multiple piercings.

 

“Hyung,” Junhong says, “you look great.”

 

Himchan rewards him with a satisfied grin and another affectionate pat.

 

–

 

Soon, the exam session begins to loom on the horizon like a foreboding storm cloud. Junhong can’t lie to himself – he is scared. It’s the end of his first year and if he passes his exams he will go on to year two. If he doesn’t though, all his struggles and sacrifices will have been in vain. Frankly, the very thought of failing a subject scares the soul out of him, enough to finally have him cut down the hours he spends at work.

 

He begins to study like possessed, while the hyungs take it upon themselves to comfort him. It becomes a normal thing, for Daehyun to drop by in the evening, wrangle the books away from Junhong’s tired hands and have him fall asleep snuggled on his chest like a baby, to the sound of Daehyun’s quiet singing.

 

Junhong can’t believe Daehyun never got any vocal training, his voice is _magical_. He is also warm and soft and can’t quite hide his delight at being used as a pillow.

 

Deep down Daehyun is like a sheep dog. He gets attached easily and likes to have everyone in the group close. He takes Junhong’s willingness to be cuddled and sang to sleep as trust – rightly so – and it makes him so stupidly happy Junhong can’t even feel embarrassed about acting like a baby.

 

He does sleep better like that.

 

–

 

As the exam session grows nearer, the number of visits dwindles so that Junhong can focus wholly on his studies.

 

They didn’t meet up every day in the first place. Junhong has always been a very independent and responsible young adult and he didn’t need babysitting so much as the feeling of being cared for – the security that comes from knowing that should anything happen, a safety net is ready to catch him. The only thing Himchan (and, surprisingly, Yongguk) insist on is a weekly grocery delivery that turns into a small tradition of a group dinner feast at his place.

 

Junhong fits into their small group as if he’s belonged there from the very start. He lets Himchan boss him around, hero worships Yongguk and his artistic soul, absorbing his words like a parched sponge; lets Daehyun and Youngjae act like big brothers and positively flourishes under their teasing/doting. With Jongup, it’s as if the two youngest boys are actually twins or something, with how well they get on, sharing love for dancing, anime and who knows what else.

 

(“Yongguk, what in the hell are _memes_??”)

 

(Yongguk doesn’t know either.)

 

It’s an honest to god pleasure Himchan didn’t expect – watching Junhong open up and grow. Maybe it’s because he only sees the boy once a week but he thinks he can see a little bit of change on every visit.

 

First, the glazed look of impending delirium disappears from Junhong’s eyes. Then there is a spring in his steps. The bags under his eyes become a thing of the past next. Finally, one day when Junhong is whining into his plate of fried chicken about the upcoming exam session, Himchan realizes that the boy’s clothes are no longer hanging on him like on a clothes rack. That realization fills him with contentment and pride.

 

“Junhong-ah,” Yongguk says, drawing everyone’s attention. Years ago that would have made him uneasy. Now, he grins and says, “pass your exams and I’ll see what I can do about that nose piercing you’ve been telling me about.”

 

Thus motivated, Junhong diligently, tenaciously studies and practices and studies some more. He barely has the time to spend with everyone else. Daehyun whines and pouts, for which Youngjae tries to ridicule him but it falls flat because the younger boy is as blue as the elder. Even Jongup, though less expressive about it, misses his friend.

 

And then, one day, Junhong skips into Yongguk’s tattoo parlour and slaps a piece of paper on the counter. It’s his school report that he got printed out as confirmation of a full set of positive final grades.

 

“What’s this?” Yongguk asks curiously, picking it up. Before he can take a proper look, Himchan appears as if summoned and rips the paper from his hands, scanning it quickly.

 

“Yonggukkie hyung! I passed first year!” Junhong crows happily.

 

“With flying colours,” Himchan adds, voice ringing with pride as he allows Yongguk to take the paper back. Yongguk barely spares it a glance, busy returning Junhong’s radiant smile with one of his own.

 

“I knew you would,” he praises the boy, chuckling at the flush that colours Junhong’s cheeks pink. “Well, which side did you want your piercing on?”

 

“The left, please!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junhong's second year is a new set of trials but he has no fear with his hyungs at his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired by my own experiences. Youngjae's part is practically exactly what I'm going through now - that's why its ending is a little different from others'.
> 
> I hope you like it!

Second year is no less difficult than first when it comes to course work but Junhong discovers that even evil teachers and bad luck can’t hurt him when he’s got his hyungs watching his back.

 

First time he realizes this he’s sitting in class, tired from burning the midnight oil to finish an essay that he’s supposed to turn in today. The essay that _isn’t there_ when he goes to pull it out from his bag.

 

Junhong has spent two weeks writing this essay. It’s been on his mind even longer, today’s deadline burned into his memory. _This is 50% of your grade,_ the teacher had said, and so Junhong spared no effort to make it the best essay of his life.

 

And now, staring the teacher in the face, all he can do is rasp, through a suddenly dry mouth, “I did it, I swear, I had to have left it at home!”

 

He digs through his bag, _thrice_ , to make sure he really doesn’t have it but it seems that fate has it out for him – it’s really not there.

 

The teacher sighs. “You know the rules, Junhong-ssi – you have time to submit it until the end of this class. After that it’ll be a failing grade.”

 

She moves on but her words stay ringing in Junhong’s suddenly empty head for a few minutes after that. His hands are clammy, breath shallow; he’s in a state of near panic. There’s no way he could go home and bring it on time himself, he wouldn’t make it on time. Maybe if he had a car – but he hasn’t even got a license. Himchan hyung has a car but he’s probably busy and even if he isn’t it would take too long to get Junhong from the campus, drive him home and then back.

 

Unless he could go straight for the project and then bring it to Junhong, it’s probably laying neatly on the closed lid of his computer but the doors are closed and only Junhong has a key-

 

But there’s someone who doesn’t need a key, isn’t there?

 

Fingers trembling, guilt and fear warring in his soul, Junhong taps out a message to Daehyun and prays the elder has his phone on him.

 

_Hyung can you help me please help please!!! <_

 

The minute it takes Daehyun to respond somehow stretches into ten hours but the phone vibrates in Junhong’s hand – so hard his grip almost fails. That would be the cherry on top of not having the essay to turn in, disrupting class by clumsily dropping his phone on the floor and then folding himself between the chair and desks to look for it. Humiliation complete.

 

But thankfully he keeps his grip on the phone and his eyes immediately latch on the new message.

 

_> Where are you what happened?!_

 

_Left essay at home GOT 40 MINS TO TURN IT IN OR FAIL HELP <_

 

_> on it!_

 

Now it’s all in Daehyun’s hands.

 

Junhong sits, antsy as if his chair was an electric one. He can’t even focus on what’s the lesson about, his brain is a mess of scattered thoughts. On one hand he has faith in Daehyun hyung, on the other he can’t help but imagine the class coming to an end with no hyung in sight and the teacher refusing to have mercy on him, writing a big fat zero next to his name. The vision has cold sweat dotting his forehead. The pen tumbles from his nerveless fingers and he can’t be bothered to pick it back up again.

 

Time crawls on unbearably slowly, stretching the torture until Junhong feels he’s teetering on the brink of insanity; and at the same time it’s like he’s barely blinked and twenty minutes have passed with no sign of Daehyun.

 

It’s actually another ten before there’s a short knock and the door to the classroom opens. In peeks sunshine personified. Junhong can hear the angel choirs when his eyes meet his hyung’s. He shoots up from his seat, mumbling apologies for disrupting the class, and almost runs to where Daehyun is waiting in the corridor.

 

“Hi, Junhongie! Himchan hyung’s waiting in the car so I’m going to be quick but I hope this is it,” he says brandishing the file he’s got in his hands, “I found it lying on your computer. Oh, and I forgot to ask which classroom you’re in but Youngjae checked by course name on the university’s website. And we made it with ten minutes to spare! I hope you’ll have no problems now!” Daehyun says it all with barely a break to breathe, putting the papers into Junhong’s hands and grinning proudly.

 

Junhong’s respiratory system produces some weird, muffled sob-like sound in response and the boy is helpless against the overwhelming urge to hug his hyung in gratitude. Daehyun cries out, surprised at having a sudden armful of an emotional giant but loops his arms around the kid nonetheless and pats his back consolingly. Junhong squeezes until his hyung lets out a squeak and blubbers words of thanks and apology into his neck.

 

Daehyun laughs at the endearing behaviour and ruffles Junhong’s hair before detaching himself from the embrace and nudging the boy towards the still ajar door to the classroom. “Go now,” he urges with a chuckle, “or the class will end before you can give her the paper!”

 

“Yes, hyung, thank you so much!” Junhong repeats for what must be the tenth time and still feels it’s not enough to properly convey his gratitude. The entire semester of work, past and future, in this class was just saved!

 

“Don’t forget to thank Himchannie hyung and Youngjae when you see them next,” Daehyun reminds.

 

“I won’t! See you later, hyung and thanks again!” Junhong promises before leaving his chuckling hyung in the corridor to triumphantly hand the paper to his teacher who accepts it with a surprised look on her face.

 

“I really did it, seonsaengnim, I don’t lie. I’m sorry for the trouble,” Junhong says and gets back to his seat, falling into the chair to spend the rest of the class breathing through the leftover adrenalin and relief coursing through his body.

 

He’s barely been seated for a minute before he feels something poking at his back. He twists back to met the eager eyes of a girl sitting behind him who he’s never spoken to before.

 

“So,” she says, almost breathless, “this your boyfriend?”

 

Junhong proceeds to choke on his saliva. It takes him a moment to compose himself enough to wheeze, “No! He’s just my hyung!”

 

“Oh.” The girl grabs his arm and pins him with her gaze; suddenly he feels very unsettled. “Do you think you could give me his number then?” she says.

 

“I-I’ll see what I can do,” Junhong promises and she releases him, satisfied.

 

 _Don’t worry, hyung, I won’t give her your number. I’ll protect you,_ Junhong swears internally. His hyung is a good person, he deserves someone equally as precious and Junhong will be damned if he lets anyone less than worthy get to him.

 

–

 

The second time it’s Himchan hyung who comes save Junhong’s skin, even more literally that Daehyun hyung. Because this time Junhong is forced to call for help in getting to the hospital with an injured arm.

 

He can _hear_ it snap when he steps wrong during dance workshop and he tries to keep his nose from smashing on the floor by catching himself on his hands. Unfortunately, he only manages to get one hand between the entire weight of his falling body and the hard, unforgiving floor. It stands no chance.

 

White light bursts under his eyelids when he falls and it’s a good few minutes before he’s coherent enough to notice someone’s moved him from the floor to the sofa in the corner of the room and sat him there.

 

The teacher, or rather the TA, whose name is Hoseok, delicately prods at the wounded arm to check the damage and pronounces it most probably broken. Which means he’ll have to go to the hospital and then it’ll be a few weeks before he’s allowed back into practice.

 

Junhong would be more horrified if he wasn’t in an awful amount of pain.

 

The TA – and poor guy looks crushed – asks if there’s anyone who can take him to the closest hospital. Maybe a fellow student? Immediately he asks for his bag. It’s not easy to rummage in it for his phone with one hand only but he manages.

 

 _Call any one of us if you need anything_ , Himchan had said. And Himchan has a car.

 

Junhong doesn’t overthink it as he dials the number. His arm hurts. He really wants it to stop hurting.

 

Himchan answers fast. “Hello?”

 

“Hyung,” Junhong says, voice thready from pain. Himchan immediately picks up on it.

 

“Junhong-ah? Has something happened?” he asks anxioulsy. He sounds way too worked up over Junhong’s one word. Then again, he’s probably gotten too many calls for help from the other hyungs. Himchan is that kind of person. Reliable.

 

“Hyung, I broke my arm,” Junhong gasps; he tried to shift and it was a mistake. “Could you take me to the hospital? Please?”

 

“Yes, of course. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be there. Where will you be?” Himchan agrees immediately. In the background there’s a sound of chair legs scraping against the floor.

 

“I’m, uh, still in dance class but-”

 

“Which building is it? I’ll park in front of it and come get you, okay?” Himchan sounds all business but Junhong can hear his slightly faster breathing and the sound of his footsteps thundering on the floor as he walks.

 

“I, I’ll wait for you outside, I’ll be okay to walk for a bit,” he hastens to assure. A hand appears on his good shoulder. Junhong looks up to see one of his fellow second years, Yugyeom, who whispers “I’ll go with you.”

 

Junhong stammers in surprise, ready to politely refuse the help but then Himchan speaks again and it surprises him so much he flinches – and his arm is jarred. Tears spring to his eyes from the momentary sensation of _pain_ shooting through his body.

 

“Junhong-ah? Junnie? Are you okay?” Himchan demands through the phone.

 

“Yeah, sorry hyung, I just moved my arm wrong,” Junhong explains, blinking to clear his vision.

 

“Okay, take it easy, don’t rush. I’ll wait for you,” Himchan says reluctantly but there’s a tinny thud as his car doors shut.

 

“Thank you, hyung,” Junhong says fervently and ends the call.

 

“Sorry,” Yugyeom apologizes sheepishly. “But Hoseok says you shouldn’t go alone like this. I can walk and wait with you, if you’d like.”

 

“Ah, thank you but, isn’t it still class?” Junhong says. He hopes the other will understand that he means he doesn’t want to be a bother and disrupt the class any more than he already has; much less cause someone to miss it.

 

“Don’t worry about it, it’ll end soon anyway, I doubt if we’ll do anything important in that time,” Hoseok assures with a smile. Thus convinced, Junhong agrees.

 

He hurts. He’s not in the mood for arguments. He’s in the mood for oblivion. And possibly some comfort in the form of his hyungs’ pampering. Just a little bit.

 

As the TA helps Junhong to his feet, Yugyeom hangs both their bags on one shoulder and offers the other to Junhong. Feeling immensely awkward, Junhong shakes his head stubbornly, deciding to walk on his own. Yugyeom accepts this and leads the way, opening doors and making a safe passage for Junhong so that no one bumps into him.

 

That would be unfortunate to say the least.

 

“So where did you say you were going to wait?” The other boy asks finally when they step out of the building into the chilly, late autumn air. It actually feels nice against his hurt arm.

 

“The front. Where cars park,” Junhong answers trying not to pant.

 

“Right,” Yugyeom slaps a hand to his head, “obviously. Need a car to get to the hospital. Uh, I think there’s a- oh! There is a bench here, come on lets sit.” He puts both bags on the bench and stretches his sore muscles. Junhong sits heavily.

 

“You okay?” Yugyeom asks. “You’re not gonna, like, hurl or anything? From the pain? I heard it happens and you’re looking pale. Want some water or something?”

 

Water actually sounds good. Now that Yugyeom’s mentioned it, Junhong notices that his entire mouth us completely dry. He nods.

 

“Right, I’ll be right back,” Yugyeom assures and rushes off. It’s barely two minutes before he comes back with a water bottle dripping with condensation. There’s a moment of awkward silence when he offers the bottle to Junhong, who takes it and then pauses, realizing he’s unable to open it. Yugyeom laughs sheepishly and takes the bottle back to twist the cap off quickly. Junhong mumbles his thanks and takes a sip.

 

It’s bliss. The cold water soothes his parched mouth and throat and clears his head a little. He sips through half of the bottle before his phone starts ringing. Yugyeom takes the bottle back seamlessly, freeing Junhong to answer the phone.

 

“Junhong-ah, I’m here. Where are you?” Himchan’s nasal voice filters through the speakers and Junhong instantly looks up, scanning his surroundings in search of his familiar car.

 

He has to lean forward on the bench to see it from behind a tree that stands behind the bench, providing shade.

 

“I’m on the bench behind the tree, I see you now. I’ll be right there!” Junhong says and hangs up.

 

Yugyeom grabs their bags again and hands Junhong his water back. “Where to?”

 

This time Junhong leads the way, energized from the prospect of feeling better soon. Realistically it’s not going to be very soon at all but Himchan hyung is there now. It’s going to be okay.

 

Himchan steps out of the car as soon as he sees him and opens the passenger door for him. He and Yugyeom talk briefly – Junhong doesn’t listen, busy trying to fold himself into the car without the use of one arm and without any additional injuries – Himchan takes Junhong’s things from the other boy and throws them in the back seat.

 

Then Yugyeom is telling him to hang in there and get better soon so they can dance together again and Junhong barely has the presence of mind to thank him before the other boy walks away.

 

Himchan gets behind the wheel and starts the car. “How’s the arm?” he asks, brows furrowed in concentration as he manoeuvres slowly to avoid any and all potholes.

 

“Hurts,” Junhong downright whines. Himchan hyung chuckles.

 

“We’ll be at the hospital soon. In the meantime, have you ever heard about the time Daehyun broke his leg? Let me tell you about it.”

 

Junhong is still in pain, his arm is broken, the car ride is _not_ smooth despite Himchan’s best efforts to make it so, he’s going to have to spend hours in the hospital to get a cast and then he’s not going to be able to use his arm, not able to dance, for _weeks_.

 

That is all awful and terrible. In first year, however, that would have made him panic into an early grave. Now, he lets his hyung’s voice wash over him, giggling at the more ridiculous parts of the story, and sure that whatever happens, in the end he’s probably going to be okay.

 

–

 

Yongguk hyung is the third to step foot on Junhong’s university’s campus grounds. He’s the first one to see it at night.

 

It’s past eight in the evening and the lanterns are already lit, causing the thin layer of snow that fell during the day to glint like glitter. Junhong doesn’t usually have classes this late but today was an exception – a make up class for one they’d missed earlier in the semester and this was the only time that fit everyone.

 

He’s not looking forward to going out into the cold but _god_ does he want to leave. Neither the class nor braving the weather are appealing scenarios to him but he’ll take the cold sooner because it means going home.

 

When the teacher dismisses them, Junhong throws his things into his bag and bundles up, hiding a yawn in his hand. Outside, he fixes his scarf to cover his throat better and plods towards the bus stop.

 

And then he notices. Standing neatly at the curb is a familiar scooter with an even more familiar hyung waving at him from atop it. Junhong breaks into a jog.

 

“Hyung?” he says in disbelief. Yongguk throws him a gummy smile and hands him a spare helmet.

 

“It’s late. And cold. I know the car would be more comfortable but it’s getting a check-up at a repair shop today. I figured, since you’ve said you want, um, a ride, I could do that and save you the time and health you’d have to spend waiting for the bus,” Yongguk explains.

 

Junhong is suddenly not tired anymore. Yongguk hyung has just recently bought the little scooter and Junhong’s been _pestering_ him for a ride ever since he first saw it. Yongguk’s been refusing citing that he doesn’t feel confident enough yet to be responsible for Junhong’s safety on the roads.

 

Junhong can not believe his luck. He jams the helmet on his head quickly. Then pauses, tugs it back off and says, “Thank you, hyungie!”

 

Yongguk chuckles fondly and waits, makes sure that Junhong is sitting securely, attached to his waist, before he pulls away from the curb.

 

Even though he doesn’t drive fast, riding a scooter can be a cold business but this time neither feels cold even once.

 

–

 

Youngjae hyung doesn’t come to the campus, but he saves Junhong too.

 

It’s the third – and last – retake of a difficult exam. It’s The hardest exam of this year, if not all his years at university. Every year at least a few people can’t make it. It’s like a sieve, letting only a number of students pass. Junhong’s been dreading it. Throughout the semester he’s attended the lectures religiously, made notes by hand and then again, a neater version, on his computer. He started revising as soon as the previous exam ended (and he’s had some sleep).

 

The exam was difficult. He knew he answered some of the questions well but he was almost sure it wouldn’t be enough to let him pass. But there was always retake session so he tried to not panic and focused on cramming for the next exam.

 

And then he got an email from the students’ affairs office – his work was almost good enough to pass and the professor is going to give him and people like him a chance – prepare the part of the material they failed and come pass it during the professor’s next office hours.

 

On one hand it’s great. He is that close to passing. On the other – next office hours are in four days and he’s still busy with an important dance showcase coming up, spending five hours a day in the practice room. And the examination is going to be oral this time.

 

Still, he misses practice on the day of the additional examination and studies himself into a panic. He goes into the room when he’s called, sits in front of the stern old professor and his mind is a blank page.

 

Forcing down panic he manages to remember the answer to the question he’s been given but the professor is not satisfied. Demands details Junhong can hardly recall. He can feel his soul leaving his body when he hears the second question and can not remember ever having read about it before.

 

He ends up staring in wide-eyed silence at the professor’s sour face until the woman sighs and tells him to come back next week, this time prepared.

 

Meekly, Junhong grabs his bag and slips away.

 

He spends the ride home updating his hyungs on the situation briefly and tells them he’s just going to go home and sleep. They’re all supportive and sympathetic but he doesn’t want to talk. He feels wretched and scared and _tired_.

 

He spends the rest of the evening playing some game to unwind and forget his feelings for a little while, and ends up sleeping in on the next day. He’s fully prepared to begin anew, even though the very thought makes his heart lurch.

 

He’s tired. He hates it, hates that everything was finally going okay, all the cogs in his life finally found their place and came together to _fit_ and suddenly this one thing is like a handful of sand thrown right into the heart of his little mechanism.

 

He has to attend the dance practice because that showcase is a huge step towards his future as a dancer. He’ll have a much tougher time at it if he does badly on it. In short, practice is a must. But five hours a day leave him tired and between getting home after and eating something he hardly has any time to study.

 

But if he doesn’t study he won’t pass and if he won’t pass – he’ll most likely have to repeat a year and not even the showcase is going to help him.

 

In short – he has to pass both and isn’t certain of succeeding at either. And that’s what’s killing him. He’s, once again, in a situation where all his life is in his hands and he can feel it leaking through the gaps despite his most desperate efforts because his body and mind are just _tired_.

 

He’s doing all he can but the exam session lasted a whole month and immediately after the dance practice began. He was managing until the retake became an issue.

 

It’s too much. He wants to sleep, he wants to rest, he wants to enjoy things again without feeling guilty. He misses his hyungs, feels awful when he has to refuse their offers of hanging out together because he has to study. He just wants to be able to _breathe_ again.

 

But he knows he can’t, not until he passes this exam.

 

On Saturday there’s no dance practice so Junhong is determined to study all day long again, even though it makes him want to cry.

 

He’s barely cracked the books open when his door opens. In comes Youngjae hyung with an overnight bag in hand. He dumps the bag on the floor beside the bed and comes to the table to slam Junhong’s books shut.

 

“Hyung!?” the boy says, alarmed.

 

“You’re coming with me,” Youngjae says.

 

“But-!” “No arguments, come on.” Youngjae orders and grabs his arm to haul him up from his chair. Junhong stumbles, shocked, and then begins to struggle.

 

“But hyung, I have to study!”

 

“You need to take a break,” Youngjae counters and tugs harder. “Look,” he says when the younger boy remains stubbornly seated. “I know this exam is important and I know the weekend is when you have the best chances of getting shit done because you have no dance practice. But Junhong, listen to me.”

 

Youngjae’s voice is serious and urgent. Junhong listens.

 

“It’ll do you no good to force yourself like this. You’ll just end up exhausting yourself more and having even more trouble at remembering this shit. Your brain needs proper rest before you put it through more stress or you’re going to crash and burn, Junhong, and I don’t want that for you.”

 

Junhong swallows with difficulty. “But what if I don’t have enough time and fail _again_?” he asks in a small voice.

 

“You’re going to be just fine,” Youngjae assures him. “When you’re well-rested, remembering information comes easier. Tell you what,” he proposes struck by sudden inspiration, “if you want to, I can help you study. Every day. I’ll monitor how much you’ve learned based on your notes. Does that sound okay? But for now, you forget about all this,” here Youngjae waves his hand at the books, “and come with me. There’s a local shelter full of dogs that need walking. Deal?”

 

Junhong blinks the wetness from his eyes and desperately prays his hyung will once again be his salvation. Feeling very much as if he’s signing his soul over in a deal with the devil, he says, “Deal.”

 

–

 

Junhong would be hard pressed to choose a favourite hyung – each of them is important to him in a different way, he loves them all very much. But Jongup has got to be the hyung he’s the closest to.

 

Maybe it’s their age, maybe all their shared interests, most probably everything together. Truth is, Jongup is like the best friend from films, the kind that Junhong’s always thought is too good to be true. And yet here Jongup is. Supportive, kind, surprisingly sassy and he shares many of Junhong’s interests. He’s like a platonic soulmate.

 

So, when the dance showcase Junhong’s been working his ass off for for months is finally soon to happen and Junhong is told he can bring a guest – he chooses Jongup.

 

The other boy’s eyes light up in a smile and Jongup solemnly promises to be there for him all day.

 

And Jongup keeps his promises.

 

He arrives at Junhong’s flat right before Junhong _needs_ to leave. Another shared trait – they both tend to, completely unintentionally, run late, though for different reasons. Jongup takes a long time in the morning; Junhong’s body insists on getting as much sleep as possible when it can and it’s not easy to get him up in the first place.

 

Today stress barely let him sleep though, so he’s dressed already when Jongup arrives. The older boy lets himself in only to see Junhong sitting at the table and _breathing_ with an absent look in his eyes. There’s a glass of juice standing on the table in front of him, half-full. No food in sight. Jongup knows better than to think it’s already been cleaned after.

 

There was no breakfast. It explains a lot. Mainly, Jongup understands that his friend is, mildly speaking, overwhelmed by stress. This is going to need a strategy.

 

Junhong turns in his chair and stares at him. Jongup is uncomfortably reminded of their very first meeting, for some reason. He huffs quietly.

 

“Alright, we’re perfect on time so finish your juice and we can go,” he says. Junhong looks at the juice dubiously but reaches for the glass and downs his breakfast in two gulps. It’ll do for now, Jongup decides, and makes a mental note to find a vending machine selling healthy snacks for later. Small bites, stretched over time. Junhong won’t feel as if he’s eating but his body is going to get at least _some_ nutrition.

 

Jongup leaves the glass in the sink, filled with water so it won’t dry sticky, for later as Junhong puts his shoes on and then they depart.

 

They walk to the bus stop. Neither can drive and they decided not to bother the other hyungs for a ride since walking is a good warm up for the muscles. On the bus, Junhong takes off the thin sweatshirt and sways a little _too_ fluidly with the bus. Jongup glowers at a girl who keeps talking on her phone until she vacates her seat and manhandles Junhong to rest there.

 

When they get off at the campus, Junhong is about three shades paler and Jongup is starting to worry.

 

“Lead the way, Jun, I’ve never been here before,” he says trying to infuse his tone with enthusiasm. Junhong likes his school and he’s happy to tell his hyungs about it; he should be bouncing around with the chance to take Jongup around it, even if just a little.

 

Instead, Junhong nods woodenly and walks to his destination like an automaton.

 

He stops at the door to his group’s dance studio. Everyone’s already there and the familiar sight of a dozen bags thrown messily on a pile under one wall is at least a little bit soothing.

 

Jongup smiles encouragingly and remains on the side unobtrusively, watching curiously as the leader? Teacher? Gathers the students around and delivers a very uplifting pep talk. Junhong manages to smile when a heart-shaped smile is directed at him and the sight feels Jongup with hope.

 

As everybody starts to prepare to head out, the teacher comes up to Jongup himself, radiating friendliness. “Hello!” he greets cheerfully. “I take it you’re Junhong’s guest?”

 

“Yes,” Jongup replies simply.

 

If the other man is offended at the monosyllabic answer he doesn’t let it show. “That’s great! He’s been looking forward to showing you around since he says you’re a dancer yourself?”

 

Jongup is surprised. Somehow, he didn’t think he made it into conversation topics for Junhong and his friends, much less teachers. “Um, I dance. Sometimes.”

 

“I hope you like the showcase then. We’re going to go backstage now since everyone’s about ready and I’ll show you to the audience,” the man says. Jongup thanks him with a nod.

 

He continues to walk beside the teacher at the back of the nervously chattering group of students and lets the atmosphere wash over him, looking around curiously. Junhong loves his university and his major – it’s his passion, after all – and admitted once to having fantasized about attending classes together with Jongup.

 

The idea stuck with Jongup but he’s conflicted. Being a student sounds fun, most days, but this? This Jongup is not sure about. This is Junhong pouring his blood, sweat and tears – literally – into his passion and having it judged by others. This sounds less than appealing.

 

“To the audience through here,” the teacher says suddenly, pointing to large, open doors. Jongup nods gratefully and jogs a few steps to tap Junhong on the back.

 

“Good luck, Junhong-ah,” he says, grinning. “You’ll be great, I know it.”

 

Junhong’s smile is tremulous but he thanks him sounding less freaked out than he was before. “Enjoy the showcase, hyung!” he adds and Jongup throws a hand up to show he’s heard, already at the doors.

 

The event itself it pretty fun. Of course Jongup is most interested in his dongsaeng but all the performers have something interesting to show and he’s entranced by the atmosphere, the crowd, the applause and the group dances. He can’t help but wonder what it’s like to stand on the stage.

 

When it’s Junhong’s turn, Jongup perks up to watch closely. He knows the choreography, he’s helped Junhong practice it at home many times, so he’s free to observe the performace in its entirety.

 

Somehow, Junhong seems different than at home. Maybe it’s the clothes, the touch of make-up on his face or the stage lights that create this feeling. Or maybe it’s the aura of the place, the adrenalin and excitement of performing in front of so many people that have Junhong’s dance look electrifying – and Jongup can’t wait to talk to his dongsaeng, to congratulate him and as him about the experience from the other side.

 

He knows that as a spectator he’s completely charmed.

 

He slips out of the hall s few minutes before the showcase ends and goes in search of a vending machine or a cafeteria where he can buy Junhong his snack and something to drink. When he gets back, a river of people is already flowing through the corridor but he braves his way through to the backstage and peers inside to see if Junhong’s there.

 

He is, and he notices Jongup right away. Immediately, his face brightens and he hurries over exclaiming “Hyung!” in such a happy tone that Jongup can’t help but answer with a big smile of his own.

 

“Hyung, did you like it?” Junhong asks, gasps, almost, eagerly awaiting verdict.

 

Jongup thrusts the food into his hands and yanks him into a tight hug. “I loved it, Junhong-ah. I _loved_ it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pure, self-indulgent fluffmedy. I don't even know what to say, I just wanted Junhong confronted with the Question, lol. I hope you enjoy.

Graduation was like a distant dream throughout the entirety of Junhong’s college experience. At the beginning he didn’t think of it at all, too absorbed with trying to pass his classes _and_ survive. Then, he started to actively work towards securing himself as good a start in the adult world as possible but even in his last year, even working on his final thesis, actually leaving school was still a concept too alien to comprehend.

 

Sure, he looked at Yongguk hyung and Himchan hyung in their tattoo parlour and thought to himself, “The se are true adults.” But he never considered himself someone  _like them_ . Confident, stable, resourceful and reliable. Junhong regularly called his hyungs to whine about his thesis to them. The only food he kept in his fridge always were cherry tomatoes. Together with Jongup they hung out regularly, only to binge their favourite shows until wee hours of the day and gorge themselves on junk food.

 

So no, Junhong hasn’t yet felt like an adult even once in his life. Not even during first year when he only had himself to think of how to keep himself fed, clothed, on top of course work and able to pay rent. But now he stands on the stage, decked out in the ceremonial robe, about to  _graduate_ , and he’s having an existential crisis. He’d call his hyungs but this robe is a bitch and they’re somewhere in the massive crowd at the great hall, meaning even if he could fish his phone from underneath the swathes of fabric he’s bundled in they’d probably have a hard time hearing their own phones ring.

 

Somewhere in that crowd is also his elder brother. Junhong hasn’t seen Junseo in  _ages_ , both of them busy with their own challenges in life, but Junseo had been so excited to hear from him every time and practically invited himself to the event. Junhong’s lips pull into a smile every time he thinks about that conversation. His parents might have stopped caring but his brother still loves him.

 

This train of thought distracts him briefly from the existential crisis and Junhong immerses himself in the excitement of seeing Junseo in person again, and introducing him to his other hyungs. He’s been dying to do that, sure that they’re all going to get together swimmingly.

 

His nerves are settled quite nicely when there’s a sudden thwack on his back. Junhong, caught unaware of his surroundings, chokes on air which causes the culprits – his two yearmate friends Yugyeom and Jungkook, to cackle like the evil demons they are.

 

Evil demons they may be but Junhong still has one significant advantage over them, Jungkook especially.

 

He’s taller.

 

Their whines of pain as he exacts revenge are music to his ears. They manage to escape  his vengence , hair mused and robes in disarray, grumbling, but brighten back up soon enough. There’s no stopping them.

 

“So, Junhong, are we finally going to meet those elusive hyungs of yours? Yugyeom’s seen one of them and another comes to all our showcases but what of the others?” Jungkook says, carelessly running a hand through his hair and it looks as good as if he took care to style it. Junhong rolls his eyes.

 

“Yeah, I’ve heard at least three different rumours about the mysterious hyungs who may or may not be your boyfriends. There’s of course the one about Jongup hyung – I mean, the dedication!” Yugyeom picks up and both boys snicker at Junhong’s exasperated expression.

 

“Then there’s the one about the hyung who came get you when you broke your arm but _we_ already know these two,” Jungkook continues blithely. “Who we’re really curious about are the other three.”

 

“Lets see, there’s the knight on a shining moped, the quote really cute one who brought your homework unquote and the one no one’s ever seen, right?”

 

“Yeah, that’ll be all of them.”

 

“Why do you even call them that, I’ve told you their names,” Junhong says, feeling his cheeks burn. It’s true that his hyungs have been a constant, loving presence in his life and he loves them in return but they’re a family, for god’s sake! Except his friends, for some reason, find it absolutely hilarious that the more insane people are readily speculating about Junhong’s sexuality and his possible relationships with the ‘mysterious handsome gentlemen’.

 

Just because they’re nice and take care of him, occasionally. Has the bar sunk that low? Is he not allowed to hug people for fear they’ll be mistaken for his lovers?

 

“Yeah, we know, it’s just funny how people go around actually thinking all this up,” Jungkook snickers.

 

“But hey, Junhong,” Yugyeom says suddenly, “now that I think about it, you’ve never actually told us how did you even meet them?” 

 

Junhong freezes. “W-what?”

 

“Well, five guys keep doting on you and y’all aren’t even related,” Yugyeom muses.

 

“You both have hyungs you aren’t related to too!” Junhong defends himself.

 

“Yeah but we met them all here,” Jungkook counters. “Hoseokie hyung was our dance TA, Jimin hyung danced with us too and they introduced me to the others. Same with Jaebum hyung.”

 

“W-well, I mean I-” Junhong starts and stops. Nothing comes to his head. The only thing he can think of is that evening, the fuzzy memories of despair, shock and tentative hope for relief all he can recall. That and Daehyun hyung’s lips, parted in surprise as he stared at Junhong from close proximity, holding him up by an arm. For some reason that one moment is strangely burned into Junhong’s memory, like a photo.

 

The first glimpse of his future? First look at one of his saviours? First spark of kindness that’s touched him in months?

 

Meeting Jung Daehyun was the turning point of his entire existence. To be honest, Junhong thinks absently, it’s fitting his parents aren’t here because they only shaped him through abandoning him. It’s the hyungs: Yongguk with his wisdom, Himchan with his strength, Daehyun with his big heart, Youngjae with his shrewdness and Jongup with his unapologetic  individuality – they are the ones who really made Junhong into the person he’s now.

 

He doesn’t feel like an adult, but he feels comfortable in his own skin.

 

It’s undeniable that they came into his life in a completely crazy way, but somehow it’s perfectly  _them_ . A touch of insanity and a whole lot of compassion, wrapped together with a steel cord of courage, love at its core. How can he tell their story any other way than how it really happened?

 

But how can he  _not_ change it? Daehyun  _did_ break in to rob him, after all, and he still does rob people when he finds a good target. That’s not a tale to tell to his friends, who both have a lot of other close friends (he’s not accusing his friends of being blabbermouths but he knows they  _would_ talk if they were worried for him and the story does sound worrying, doesn’t it), and in public to boot?

 

He’s saved from answering when the ceremony starts but he knows from the looks Yugyeom and Jungkook send him that this is not over. Their curiosity’s been picked now and they’ll persist like sharks that found blood in the water.

 

He avoids them after the ceremony, hurries over to where his embarrassing hyungs have cheered at his name being called out. He towers over them all now but when they fold him into their arms, congratulating and cooing over their “grown up baby brother” it’s still a perfect fit.

 

“Junhongie, it’s good you’re so tall now or I’d have a hard time finding you in this crowd!” Junhong hears suddenly and whirls around immediately.

 

There Junseo is, grinning proudly and holding his own arms out in an invitation. At the sight of his the-same-yet-changed face something trembles in Junhong’s chest. He flies into the open embrace and hides his fierce happiness in his hyung’s neck.

 

It’s been so long since he’s seen his brother. They talked on the phone but only now, in person, he realizes just how long it’s really been. Junseo looks older, more mature, maybe a little thinner, but he’s as loving and supportive as he’s always been; his hug perfectly familiar.

 

“Figures they’d both be giants,” Himchan says.

 

Oh, Junhong realizes, the hug was really perfectly familiar. He didn’t have to bend down for it. Junseo is, like he used to be in their childhood, as tall as Junhong himself.

 

Himchan’s comment breaks the ice that had yet to even appear. Junseo laughs like the cheerful person he is, reaching up to ruffle Junhong’s hair. “It’s genetic, I’m afraid,” he says. “Hello, I’m Junhong’s elder brother, Junseo. It’s nice to meet you.” And he adds a polite bow to his greeting.

 

The hyungs are nothing but polite and welcoming in return. They hate Junhong’s parents completely, but Junhong’s told them about his elder brother and how Junseo’s only ever been supportive of Junhong’s choices, if helpless against their parents. In return, Junseo is eyeing them all with open amicability and curiosity because Junhong’s talked about all of them to him too, and he’s expressed the desire to meet the people who’ve become such a large part in Junhong’s life.

 

Yongguk responds first, introducing himself and bowing as well, and the others follow his example. Junhong watches and his heart swells with happiness.

 

Until two very familiar voices call his name out, causing an instant scowl to appear on Junhong's face. Another round of introduction and bows commences and Junhong dares to hope that that’ll be the end of it, since both Jungkook and Yugyeom seem to have plans with their hyungs and families as well – but of course life isn’t that kind.

 

“We couldn’t let you go without making good on your promise!” Jungkook grins his excited bunny grin, the one that makes everyone but Junhong and Yugyeom give in to him; unfortunately it also works on Junhong’s hyungs.

 

“Promise?” Junseo repeats curiously.

 

“Yes, Junhong here said that he’ll tell us how he met his hyungs when we graduate!” Yugyeom explains smiling like butter couldn’t melt in his mouth.

 

Junhong gapes at the big fat lie, outraged when Yugyeom has the audacity to  _wink_ at him. But Junseo is already looking at him expectantly because he doesn’t know the story either and Junhong is speechless for an entirely different reason now.

 

He looks at his hyungs with the expression of a deer in the headlights. Himchan and Yongguk look  caught off guard . Youngjae radiates amusement at Junhong’s expense, the bastard. Jongup offers Junhong a sympathetic look but at Junhong’s wordless plea for help he can only shrug,  clueless as to what to tell the expectant audience.

 

“Ah, it’s actually quite a funny story!” Daehyun speaks up with a bright smile, blithely ignoring the look of wild panic Junhong shoots him. “Junhongie here literally just tripped over his own feet and fell into my arms!”

 

It’s... genius. Daehyun just simplified their first meeting to the maximum and everyone roars with laughter at Junhong’s expense... forgetting to ask for more details.

 

Junhong stares at his hyung with admiration as Daehyun’ s eyes scrunch into whiskery crescents.

 

As expected, he still has a lot to learn to reach his hyungs’ level.


End file.
